I rolled, briefly cataloging the pain of my spine hitting the pavement but brushing it off. I didn’t have time to dwell on that. Quickly, I rolled to my left, keeping my eyes on my attacker. Doing a reverse push up, I shoved back up with my feet, and he pushed back up to his. My eyes were now adjusted to the darkness, and the motherfucker smiled at me evilly.
"I can kill you just as easily with my hands as with a gun."
"Well, mate, I mean, at least show some respect. If you're coming after me, then you know who I am. And don’t you think you owe me the courtesy of realizing that I'm not going to make it easy?"
His voice was gravelly when he spoke. "You're a pussy. You didn't even know you were being watched."
I grinned at him then. "Are you sure I didn't? What, you thought I ambled on into this dark alleyway for shits and giggles? You're an eejit."
And then I saw it in his face as it dawned on him that he'd been the one pulled into the trap.
"Just one question though; who the fuck sent you?"
"Fuck. You."
"I'm not sure you understand. I asked you a direct question, and you didn't answer. It's quite rude. Who sent you?"
He shrugged then. "Your mum."
"So, now we're trading mum jokes. Okay, I have one," I said as we turned, circling each other with our fists up. "Your mum is so ugly that all she could do was produce a baby who is the spitting image of her."
The bloke was about six feet tall, wide though. Stocky. Big meaty fists. If I got hit by one of those, it was going to hurt. A lot. His upper lip curled in a sneer. "Was that your best attempt?"
I stopped moving then and planted my feet. "No. I know it was a little weak. But I needed to distract you."
The fucker had the good sense to scope out his surroundings.
"Yeah, fucker, we're not the only ones out here."
Then he staggered toward me. The brunt of the hit on the back of his head shook him, making him crumble in front of me. Anger and irritation flashed in his eyes before he fell.
I dragged in shuddering breaths "What the fuck took you so long?”
“Well, excuse me for having faith in you to handle that.” Drew stepped out of the shadows. "I mean, I was kind of enjoying your jokes back and forth. But he was right. Your joke was weak."
I breathed a sigh of relief as we rolled the twat over on his back. "I wasn't making a joke though. It's just a statement of a fact. He is ugly. And thank you for not making me ruin this suit. It's one of my favorites."
Drew just rolled his eyes and leaned over. "Why am I the one who put him down?"
"I was playing with my food. Working out my frustrations."
"Yeah, fair enough. Do you know who he is?"
I shook my head. "No, but we're going to find out."
I quickly searched his pockets but came up empty. Then I took out my phone and the case I had for it from my back pocket. I always kept a piece of sticky film just for these situations, should I ever need to lift a print.
I peeled back the covering of one of the film sheets and took an imprint of both thumbs and then resealed it. Then I took a photo of him. "Let's find out who he is. Maybe who he works for."
Drew panted. "Yeah, anytime you want to say thanks, I'm just sitting here waiting."
"Oh, come on, all you had to do was stand in the dark and knock the guy out. I did the hard work. I actually did some fighting there. I almost tore my suit. This is a Boateng, dammit."
Drew rolled his eyes. "God, why are you such a princess?"
I blinked at him owlishly. "Because I like to look good."
He laughed. "So ugly, yet so lame."
I scoffed. "Please, we all know that I'm the prettiest of us."
Drew rolled his eyes. "I'm pretty sure that’s Ben."
I rubbed my jaw. "I am insulted. You know what? Let's ask your mum."
Drew made a gagging sound. "You wish."
I turned to the eejit on the ground. "So, what the fuck are we going to do with him?"
“Call housekeeping. Then you get to find out who’s coming after you.”
Chapter 3
Nyla
Talk about sad.
No, screw sad, this was an intervention waiting to happen. After being humiliated at London Lords, I was dragging my sorry arse back home.
Where else was I going to go? It was bloody Sunday. And perhaps, I’d spent a concerted amount of time at the off-license searching out the best wine on my way home. Not that it really mattered what kind of wine I chose to consume.
So you're just going to sit there feeling sorry for yourself?
I tried to tell myself that wasn’t what was happening. That I was just drinking some wine after a shitty breakup where I didn't exactly know what I’d done wrong or why I was being broken up with. But this was fine. Everything was fine.
Seriously, when did you get so pathetic?
My argument with myself was not helping my mood.
In the end, I bought one bottle of red, one bottle of white, a bottle of rosé, and snacks. Several kinds of biscuits. And even American Cheetos. I’d missed American Cheetos. When I was a child, I consumed copious amounts of Cheetos, getting cheese dust smeared everywhere in the back of Mum’s
